Daemon Targaryen (Matt Smith) is the textbook definition of mad (in the angry sense), bad, and dangerous to know. Be it his coarser House of the Dragon characterization or the conflicting reports found in author George R. R. Martin’s Fire & Blood, the prince-turned-king-consort has murdered innocents and committed war crimes. Common practice for A Song of Ice and Fire, certainly, but despite how often his Pandora’s Box smile accompanies his regret-less deeds, Daemon’s moral textures are especially rich. Fire & Blood’s Archmaester Gyldayn calls him “light and dark in equal measure,” and Smith’s layered performance fulfills that description. He weaponizes his devilish smirk as easily as he does despondent aloofness, or, worst (best) of all, the lonely misery stewing behind Daemon’s eyes. Daemon ruins those who dare to get close. Besides his brother, Viserys Targaryen (Paddy Considine), no one has burrowed deeper beneath Daemon’s armor than his niece-turned-wife, Rhaenyra Targaryen (Emma D’Arcy).
If the series’ first season charts how Daemon and Rhaenyra always return to one anotherJane Eyre style (“I feel […] as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you”), then their Season 2 separation fractures their tremulous bond before healing their wounds. A fearsome union re-emerges, and nothing short of Daemon’s considerable character growth could’ve bridged the couple’s long-postponed emotional impasse. House of the Dragon’s second season breaks Daemon to reforge him, his arc culminating with the Rogue Prince performing one of the sexiest gestures in the onscreen A Song of Ice and Fire universe. Daemon is mad, bad, and dangerous to know, and after that Season 2 finale, he has fulfilled his destiny as television’s current best “my wife” character. Sorry, Jamie Fraser; Daemon Targaryen (of all people) is coming for your Wife Guy crown.
Daemon’s Resentments Weaken His Relationship With Rhaenyra in ‘House of the Dragon’ Season 2
House of the Dragon doesn’t feature many love stories, or, at least, romances in the traditional sense: relationships commanding enough screen time to affect plot developments and character movements meaningfully. Every Westeros affair seems short-lived or doomed, especially as the Dance of the Dragons escalates. Queen Rhaenyra and her king consort are likely no less doomed than their counterparts, but Season 1 establishes them as the series’ core power couple. Once you accept they can never be entirely healthy (Targaryens are gonna Targaryen), then their dynamic’s messy complexity is nigh-irresistible. Season 1 depicts a lust-and-longing dance between two human dragons before anyone calls an official Dance of the Dragons war. Only Valyrian steel could slice through Daemyra’s — to use their ship portmanteau — tension, especially since it’s powered by the trio of Smith, D’Arcy, and Milly Alcock’s spirited younger Rhaenyra; a conflagration of electrifying chemistry money can’t manufacture.
In one of Season 2’s post-episode breakdowns, executive producer and writer Sara Hess describes Daemon and Rhaenyra as the same person in two bodies. Rhaenyra’s more dramatic approach summarizes them as twin flames destined to burn together. That foreshadowing isn’t heartwarming, but their dispositions personify what it means to be the blood of the dragon. Viserys fears that his daughter and brother’s similarities will lead to their mutually assured destruction; instead, channeling their ancestors’ unbanked fire brings them closer. Daemyra balance one another out. Rhaenyra needs Daemon’s revitalizing fire; Daemon needs Rhaenyra’s tempering wisdom.
Season 2 mercilessly tests the couple’s endurance. Rhaenyra’s motivation in this clash for the Iron Throne isn’t the indignity of having her crown stolen, but the Song of Ice and Fire prophecy. She has an inherited duty to protect her realm from the White Walkers. Daemon sneers at such fantastical weakness. He crowned Rhaenyra queen on the hills of their Dragonstone home, but marriage didn’t magically resolve his deep-seated emotional dilemmas. Because Rhaenyra received the attention Daemon craved from his older brother, he still carries a boulder-sized chip on his shoulder. Being at war highlights how profoundly Daemon’s jealousy has poisoned him, and how long he’s let it fester. Their relationships with Viserys have always been a stone pillar jutting up between them. As their Season 2, Episode 2 fight proves, those jagged edges cut down to the bone.
Seeing the Song of Ice and Fire Prophecy Humbles Daemon
Enter Harrenhal, an experience that strips Daemon of his defensive bravado. His visions disembowel his insecurities and lay them at his feet for his guilt-ridden perusal. Once he becomes receptive to ancient magic, he can willingly touch the Weirwood tree and accept his final vision as the truth, not a delusion. By seeing the Song of Ice and Fire prophecy,Daemon realizes that the world is so much bigger than the narrow corner he’s proliferated with his petty concerns and misguided ambitions. If he’s been pacing around like a caged panther since the Season 1 finale, desperate to rain down retaliatory bloodshed even though his senseless actions won’t satisfy the self-destructive rage clawing him apart from the inside, then witnessing the prophecy with his own eyes shows Daemon what he can do; what matters most. And it’s surrendering himself, body and soul, to Rhaenyra’s service.
Daemon’s purpose isn’t to rule. He exists to help: to defend his family and champion the woman he saw sitting on the Iron Throne. After five episodes with an unmoored mind, and with the clarity of a lightning strike, Daemon understands his own meaninglessness. He’s a minuscule part of this prophecy, a tiny spoke on the wheel of fate. He sees the inevitable, staggering doom of House Targaryen, the approaching White Walkers, and probably his own death. His experiences at Harrenhal are a “come to Jesus” moment on a prophetic scale.
Harrenhal’s magic offers Daemon a chance to step outside himself and serve the greater good. And he does; he releases his futile iron grip and shows up for his family. The would-be conqueror finally bandages his scars and rejects the last dregs of his self-serving resentments. Daemon, too, now comprehends that this war isn’t just Team Green versus Team Black. His newfound wisdom and humility match Rhaenyra’s existing goal: to protect Westeros from an unfathomable evil.
Daemon doesn’t know how they defeat said evil; except, the answer stands right in front of him. Rhaenyra is Daemon’s hope, because Rhaenyra, the rightful protector of the realm, is their world’s last hope. He gazes at his wife — truly gazes like she’s his first, last, and only — and finally acknowledges the validity of Viserys choosing her as his heir. With a sworn army at his command, Daemon drops to one knee and vows his fealty to whatever end. Nothing could make us appreciate Daemon more than his reverse heel-turn back to the “light,” which is really just confirming who Daemon has always been capable of becoming. His proclamation (“I am meant to serve you, and all of these with me, until death or the end of our story”) is a lethal line designed to make us clutch our hearts. Daemon has never quite been a dark romance lead, but this moment – pledging eternal devotion, publicly demonstrating strength through submission — is what problematic-but-redeemed male leads are made of. And it wouldn’t be so darn sexy without two seasons of build-up, one season of soul-searching, and one singular prophecy.
Daemon Becomes the Ultimate Wife Guy in ‘House of the Dragon’ Season 2
Rhaenyra, justifiably cautious, scans her husband’s face for a lie. Instead, she finds the validation she’s always needed and been desperately starved for. Even before Season 2, Rhaenyra was lost and desperate, an island to herself in her grief. Even though Daemon’s storms blew him off course too many times, he’s been her lifelong anchor. Now, he’s her truest one, laying a cloak of security and understanding over her heartbreak. No longer must Rhaenyra carry the prophecy’s burden alone. Daemon reciprocates his wife’s vulnerability, and it’s important that it doesn’t feel like the reluctant concession it might have once been. For all their lives, it’s been Rhaenyra seeking him out while Daemon flees. When the scene opens, Rhaenyra steps away from him. This time, Daemon approaches her with tender reassurance — not like a predator. He slips into High Valyrian, their intimate and private language, and admits he can’t leave Rhaenyra again even if he tries (because he has tried, and failed each time). As he does, he stares at her with fearsome pride and a fond softness we’ve rarely seen. Daemon has willingly resigned himself to the power Rhaenyra holds over him, and he’s content.
What other House of the Dragon man has demonstrated this growth, maturity, and self-awareness? Daemon might not shout “my wife” when he’s rousing up the Riverlords with a speech, but the implication blankets this scene in the best way. Nothing’s sexier than a morally complex man who humbles himself for his woman, especially one majestically performed by Matt Smith. I’m only human; the only conclusion left to me is that House of the Dragon has no greater swoonworthy moment than Daemon’s grand gesture. His past can’t be absolved, but he becomes Westeros’ hottest male wife, warts and all. Those warts make the end result worthy of the grandest romance novel, and, finally, makes Daemon worthy of Rhaenyra.